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THE jEASONS 




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THE DANCE OF 
THE SEASONS 

ByHARjaETiyVONRpE 

Dtesiinsbv' 




l^W FIETCHERSEVMOUR CO. 



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Copyright 1911 

by 
Harriet Monroe 



Printed by courteous permission of the 

Fortnightly Review^ in which the poem first aff eared 

in May, igo8 






3977 

\ 



o 



To K. McD. H. 



THE DANCE OF THE SEASONS 

I — Spring 
Allegro 

Wake ! wake ! 
Out of the snow and the mist, 
In rain-wet, wind-blown gauze 
Of amber and amethyst ". 

Cometh Spring like a girl. 
Trembling and timorous 
She peers through the thin white thaws, 
Afraid of the winds that whirl 
Down paths all perilous 
"Where her so tender feet are softly going, 
Where the rich earth awaiteth her lavish 

sowing 
Of green and purple and white 
In the gardens of day and night. 

Hither she cometh— 
Behold her, the wraith so frail! 
The chill gray storm benumbeth 
Her delicate fingers pale. 
And looseth her hair from its fillet of pearl. 

5 



THK DANCi: O^ THE SEASONS 

Her soft dew-frosted eyes — 
The virginal eyes of a girl — 
Gaze at the foam-veiled skies, 
Search for the sun who hideth 
His amorous glowing face, 
For the spirit of life that glideth 
Unseen through every place. 

Blown! blown — 
Hither and yon, 
Dashed by the winds that groan, 
Lashed by the frost-elves wan, 
Whipped by the envious ghosts of old years 

long gone. 
That chatter and sigh 
Of the ruin nigh. 
Of death and darkness and sorrow that come 

anon. 
Yet bold and brave 
She dares — the young Spring — to dance on 

that ancient grave. 
To dance with delicate feet 
On the world's despair and defeat. 
On the "Winter that covereth all 
With an ashen pall. 

6 



run DANCE OF THE SEASONS 

Lo, she lifts the cover — 
A corner of that icy pall she lifts. 
Lo earth, great-hearted lover, 
Smiles upward through the dew-bespangled 

rifts. 
And shining sunbeams, pages of the day, 
Roll up the mantle, bear it far away. 
Then the earth laughs with pleasure, 
And tosses from her treasure 
Store of blue crocuses and snow-drops white, 
Glad trilliums that make the woodland 

bright, 
Rich arbutus and shadowy violets; 
Till, caught in webs of bloom. 
Light-footed Spring her stormy woe forgets. 
Forgets the cold, the gloom. 
Blesses with errant grace 
Each dim forgotten place. 
Casts on the oak its rosy velvet dress 
Of drooping leaves, muffles the maples bare 
In lilac veils, covers with tenderness 
The harsh brown world ; and then, when all is 

won, 
Trails languorous dreams, dreams exquisite 

and rare. 



THE DANCE O^ THE SEASONS 

And shrinking from the bold, too fervid sun, 
She giveth over 
Her royal lover 

Like one afraid of love, who will not stay- 
Lovers perfect day. 
She giveth over — 
Inconstant rover — 
Her glad green garlanded world, and like 

the dew 
Sleeps in the blue. 
She tosseth down 
Her flowery crown 
Into the lap of Summer — 
Glad newcomer! — 
Smiling adorns her with treasure of growing 

things 
And softly sings, 
The while she fades in light — 
A wraith, a mist 
Of amethyst; 

A spirit, a dream that goeth. 
But whither — who knoweth? 



TH^ DANCi: 01^ THK SEASONS 
II — SUMME^R 

Andante 

Hush ! hush ! 
Wake not the drowsy Summer — she would 

dream, 
Heavy with growing things. 
Dance lightly where her beauty lies a-gleam 
'Neath languidly folded wings. 
Over the delicate grasses 
A breath, a spirit passes, 
A song, and the odor of bloom — 
Give way! make room! 
The Summer hath met her lover 
By day, by night; 
He hath brought from the stars — bright 

rover ! — 
Heaven's fire, heaven's light! 
He hath filled her with life that sleepeth, 
That waits for birth, 
As a jewel its secret keepeth 
In the rock-bound earth. 

9 



THE DANCE O^ THE SEASONS 

Softly, slowly 
Dance and sway, 
While Summer dreameth 
The moons away. 
Full weary she seemeth 
Of love's deep bliss, 
But holy, holy 
Love's memories. 

The idle day is rich with budding 
things 
Whereon the bold sun glares. 
Dance lightly, lest thou tread on folded 

wings, 
Of flight still unawares. 
Ah, delicate thy foot-fall be, while ever 
The seed grows in the corn. 
The bird in the egg, the deed in the endeavor, 
The day in the morn. 

Deep in the pool the spawning fishes play; 
High in the air the bees buzz out their way. 
Everywhere 
The children of Summer come crowding in 

lustrous array — 
The myriad children of Summer, beloved of 

the sun; 

10 



the: dance of the seasons 

Through the long hot noons they are glad of 

the world they have won. 
Bright and fair 
They throng in the meadows and shake out 

the dew from their hair; 
They sing in the tree-tops, they dip in the 

slow-flowing stream; 
They nod from the hills, in the valleys their 

swift feet gleam; 
They kneel in the moon-light, the bright stars 

hear their prayer. 
Everywhere 

The high sun blesses them, 
The moon confesses them. 
Old Time with patient smile 
Harks to their hope awhile. 
They are born, they awake, their arise — yea, 

they dance in their bloom; 
For their revels of love and of wonder the 

earth makes room. 
Yea, she harketh their song for a season, she 

kisseth their feet; 
She giveth her all for their hour— be its joy 

complete. 

11 



the: dance 01^ THE SEASONS 

The fecund Summer then 
Veileth her eyes again — 
Dreameth, at rest. 
Young mother of life who feedeth 
The world at her breast; 
Rich bride of the year, who needeth 
But love and light 
To give, and give more, and give all 
In her great love 's might. 
Tread softly, give heed to her call — 
Oh be still ! be fleet ! 

Hush — hush the sweet sound of thy singing; 
Pause — pause, ye feet! 
Sink down ! she bids thee rest 
Close on her breast. 
Down! down! thy rapture flinging 
"Where all her dreams are winging. 
Ah, cease thy quest! 
Peace! — be blest! 
Be blest! 



12 



THE DANCE OF THE SEASONS 



III — Autumn 

Scherso 

Come with me — 
All that live ! 
Dance with me — 
Love — and give! 
Give me your love, ye souls of the corn and 

the vine ! 
Dance with me ! laugh with me ! crowd me ! 

be mine — be mine! 
Up from the earth in your splendor of scarlet 

and gold — 
Haste, oh make haste ere the warm rich year 

grow old! 
Ye throngs that gaily rise 
Multitudinous 

As the red, red leaves that flutter 
All tremulous 

When the wind rides down from the skies; 
Ye spirits that shout and mutter 
In laughter, in pain. 
When the year of her sowing and reaping 

13 



the: dance 01? the: seasons 

Would waste again, 

Come, spend of your treasure, full heaping, 

Be lavish, be bold! 

Cast your hope on the winds, from your feet 

shake the dark damp mold; 
Come dancing, come shouting, come leaping, 
Ere the earth grow cold! 

Come, ye wings of the air ; come, ye 
feet that trample the grasses! 
Come, ye tree-top spirits that kindle the 

leaves to flame ! 
Come, sprites of the sea that shout when the 

gray storm passes ! 
Come, wraiths of the desert whom sorrow nor 

death may tame ! 
Come eat of the rich ripe fruit, come drink of 

the vine ! 
Come dance till your revels are drunken with 

joy, with wine. 
For the labor is over and done. 
The spoil of the battle is won! 
Ah trample it, scatter it, 
Cast it afar! 

The tempests will batter it — 
On with the war! 

14 



TH^ dance: O^ the seasons 

Let your bright robes float, let them whirl 
with the rush of your feet — 

The gauzes of crimson and gold! 

Give your will to the winds — they are chas- 
ing, they haste, they are fleet; 

They are eager and ruthless and bold. 

On ! on ! till ye circle the earth with the rush 
of your dancing, 

AVith the shout and the song; 

Till your choral of crowds, like a river in 
flood-time advancing, 

Bears all things along ! 

Dance ! dance ! for the end comes soon — 

Do ye feel the chill? 

White winds of the Winter croon 

From their cave in the hill. 

Yea, death and the end come soon — 

Spread your gaudy robes! 

Haste! haste! for the leaves are falling. 

Shout! shout! for the storms are calling. 

Give all, ere the year grow old, 

Ere the world grow cold. 



15 



THE DANCE 0^ THE SEASONS 



IV — Winter 
Pinale 

Fly! fly! 
Gather your white robes close — 
Scuttle away! 
Look ! in the sky 
The bleak winds mutter morose 
To the swift dark day. 
They gather and threaten and scold, 
They shiver and shriek in their rage. 
They are ashen and icy and old — 
Ah, bitter the passion of age! 
Flee from them ! haste — haste 
Through the vengeful weather ! 
Lest your red blood chill 
And your hearts stop still, 
Crowd close together 
And flee o'er the drear dead waste! 

Down! down! 
Out of a sky all brown 
The dark storm stoops to shrivel the world 

away. 

16 



THE DANCE OF THE SEASONS 

With ribald winds lie strips her, 
With stinging sleet he whips her, 
With envious frost he withers her green to 

gray. 
Because she was gay and glad, 
Beloved of many lovers, fruitful mother 
Of many children crowding and killing each 

other ; 
Because she was wasteful mad, 
Scattering and trampling her riches for 

death to smother. 
Now shall she starve and freeze 
And pray on her stiffened knees. 
.Now shall she helpless lie 
And the powers of the air will mock her; 
The spirits she dared defy 
Will rend her and blind her and shock her. 
With white, white snow they will bury her 

passion deep 
Till it's dumb, till it's cold. 
They will whistle and roar in their triumph, 

and orgies keep 
Till her heart grows old. 
They will put out her love-lit sun like the 

torch at a feast. 



17 



THE DANCE Olf THE SEASONS 

And with haughty carousals make wanton 

his court in the east. 
They will brush down the stars like white 

feathers far blown on dark waves, 
And the night will be black as they dance on 

the ghost-thronged graves. 

Haste ! haste ! 
Your garments are torn, they are sheeted 

with ice, 
In your wind-loosed hair 
The sharp sleet rattles. 
Ye are hurled, chased 
To the Winter's lair — 
Ye have paid the price. 
Ye have bled in her battles. 
Now shelter your woe 
And be still, be still! 
Let the night-winds go 
To their cave in the hill ! 
Let the dark clouds flee 
Through the gates of the west, 
Till the earth rides free 
Who was sore oppressed. 



18 



THE DANCK OF THE) S Ej A S N S 

For weary of orgies that ravage 

Is Winter now. 

From the heel of a tyrant savage 

She lifts her brow. 

Lo, the wrath of the storm is over, 

And under a moon-white cover 

Lies the world asleep. 

So still, so pale — 

Dance bravely, lest thou quail 

And pause to weep. 

Over the flower-soft snow 

Still as the lost wind go 

To open the gates of day. 

Where watcheth yon lone pale star 

Crimson and golden are 

The curtains that shake and sway. 

Ah lift them ! look, through the rift 

Comes the sun adrift ! 

He kindles the snow to fire. 

He bids the dead earth aspire. 

Ah dance! from the yearns white grave 

New blooms will blow. 

Dance lightly, wistfully — save 

The life below ! 

Softly ! the world is still — 

19 



TH^ DANC^ 01^ THE SEASONS 

Hush thine errant will! 

No longer the dream pursue! 

Rest — rest, till the dream come true ! 

Wait ! hope I be still ! 




20 



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